


Cytokinesis

by Arya_Silvertongue



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Demonic Possession, Destructive Sibling Love, Folklore, Gen, Grief, Magic, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-01 13:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10922463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Silvertongue/pseuds/Arya_Silvertongue
Summary: Before his ultimate defeat, Bill Cipher’s desperate, final act was to make sure the twins will never go home together.Mabel, unknowingly waking up in an alternate universe where her brother is dead, spends the next ten years living what she believes should’ve been his life.Back in the original world, Dipper moves heaven, earth, and hell to find his sister.





	1. Worlds Apart

**  
**

 

The crisp sound of leaves under her boots as she trudged across the clearing made her squirm. The dark clothes she wore over her sore and aching body also did not help to ease the discomfort of having to walk around under the sweltering, afternoon sun.

Despite all that, she continued her journey; showing no signs of hesitation. A few moments passed before she stopped in front of the familiar marker. Shrugging off her enormous backpack and setting it down beside her duffel bag on the grass, she plopped on the ground with a loud huff.

She then spent the next few seconds in an intense staring contest with the cherub perched atop the gravestone before a huge smile broke across her face; revealing two rows of perfect, white teeth.

“I’m back!” Mabel declared, raising both hands to do a little happy wave. Almost instantly, her smile faltered and she moved to clutch her right side. The wave of pain made her nauseous and she shot the little angel a worried glance.

“I think I may have broken a rib or two. Sif’s gonna _kill_ me,” she muttered.

When neither the sculpture nor the letters engraved on the marble responded to her statement, a helpless look crossed Mabel’s face before she sighed and forced herself to smile again.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m being a careless dummy, I know.” With much difficulty and a few grunts, she moved to uncross her legs and allowed them to just sprawl on the grass, her arms supporting her upper body behind her.

“I know what you’re thinking.” She closes her eyes and raises her face to the sky; allowing herself to enjoy the perks of a sunny day for the first time in weeks. “Brown, black, and blood aren’t exactly my colors.” Without opening her eyes, she tucks what she knows is the bloodied edge of her top inside her pants and loudly snorts. “But let me tell you something, _brother o’ mine:_ most explorers aren’t very fashionable.”

When she felt she had enough UV on her cheeks, Mabel adjusts into a better sitting position and fixes the gravestone a mock-serious look. “I’m gonna be the first explorer in haute-couture, broseph. As soon as I figure out a way to stop danger, mayhem, and evil pixies from being attracted to pastel colors, I’ll make you proud.”

She kept her gaze on her brother’s name; willing something, _anything_ to happen. But as several emotions danced in eyes, nothing else occurred and Mabel blinked back unshed tears; opting instead to fish something out of her rucksack with a weary sigh.

“Ta-da!”

She pulled out a bronze necklace. Its pendant, dangling at the end of the chain, is a small, glass vial with a cork stopper; containing what appears to be white, shimmering dust.

“Don’t worry, it’s not glitter!” Mabel quickly supplied, somehow sensing her brother’s confusion from beyond the grave. “One of the _non-evil_ pixies gave that to me as a parting gift. It’s supposed to show you if something ‘does not belong’ or ‘is not what it seems’.” She shrugged. “Dunno what that means, really, but I thought you might like it.”

Mabel then stood up and moved towards the back of the gravestone, letting her hands roam on the ground before she managed to dig out a square sheet of wood under artificial grass; opening a box buried directly behind the marble stone. Inside, she placed the necklace together with several other trinkets she kept in the small compartment over the years.

When she placed the lid back and looked up, she found herself staring at the grinning face of David Pines.

“Dad!”

His hair had more grey than when she last saw him and his glasses were new, but he still looked the same and it took all of her self-control not to squeal as she knelt beside his wheelchair and enveloped him in a tight hug.

Fortunately for both of them, her father expected the greeting; allowing him to let go of the controls to steady her descent as she quite literally tackled him.

“Did you know I would be here?” Mabel asked when she finally let go. The look her father gave her made her blush. “Right. Sorry. Stupid question.”

Instead of scolding her for the self-deprecating remark, her father merely squeezed her hand tighter; a comforting gesture she wasn’t aware she needed.

“Where’s mom?” She whipped her head to look around; a little embarrassed that she got so lost in her own thoughts she did not sense her parents arriving. However, she did not find her parents’ old station wagon anywhere.

“She went to look for daisies after dropping me off,” her father replied. “They ran out at _Maisie’s_.”

Mabel tore her gaze from her father and suddenly found the epitaph extremely interesting. The words were simple. Generic. She knew she would’ve been able to come up with a better one; a better gravestone she would carve out of a space rock if she had to. But it was a difficult time; not exactly the season for Mabel Pines’ crazy art antics.

“She just worries, you know,” she heard her father say, treating the unspoken question with a gentleness only David Pines has always been able to manage. “But she understands you don’t need doting right now. That’s why I’m here.” When she turned to look at his face, she felt like a little girl again; her father’s smile the only thing keeping her from falling apart. “To get the hard stuff out of the way.”

She nods and they lapse into silence. Not the kind she usually dreads, no. It was a gentle sound. Not quite peace, really. But enough to be a comfort.

“Where’s your car?”

Mabel blinks and looks at her father, who gestured at the huge bags on the ground.

She scratches her head and manages a small, sheepish smile. “I…well- I may have used a… _different_ method of transportation.”

Mabel never lies to her parents. She can be a fantastic liar, oh yeah. But she’s always taken pride in telling the truth.

But after Gravity Falls and Dipper and her great, big decision, well, she started keeping the truths minimal.

David Pines silently nods and Mabel instantly feels guilty. Before she can open her mouth to elaborate, however, her father forced a smile and squeezed her hand once again. “Will you stay the night?”

His tone was hopeful and she wants to say yes. But they both know she can’t. Not today.

“I can’t.”

It came out a little more harsh than she intended and her father’s sharp intake of breath made her want to kick herself.

“But I can do dinner,” she quickly added. “I…finished a little early. They won’t expect me ‘til midnight.”

Feeling a little awkward, Mabel decided to go back to sitting on the grass. Scooting a little closer to her father, she rested her chin on the wheelchair’s armrest. Thankfully, she was tall enough that the position was not entirely uncomfortable.

“Your mother would love that,” she heard him say. “She might even let you help out in the kitchen.”

Mabel snorts. “Unless you want sequins in the casserole, you won’t let her make that mistake.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied. And just like old times, her father moves a hand to caress her hair. “But seriously, sweetheart. Try not to put non-edible things on your plate this time.”

She closed her eyes and chuckled. She can let herself enjoy this moment. If she keeps her eyes shut, she won’t be staring at Dipper’s grave and they can all pretend everything is fine.

“Happy Birthday, pumpkin.”

She feels him tucking a few loose strands at the back of her ear and this time, she allowed the tears to fall.

“Thanks for coming, dad.”

 

* * *

 

 

_A John Doe. Wentworth and his men found him in the middle of the road about an hour ago. He’s got no ID on him, no anything._

_Call Dr. Fischer._

 

Dipper feels heavy and weightless at the same time.

His throat is burning and he can’t feel his left leg, but the alternating sensations of numbness and pain is familiar. Peaceful, even. God, he’s a masochist.

And annoyed. Because it’s _so loud_.

Everything is so loud and he just wants to claw his ears off and scratch his eyes out because none of the voices are pleasant. He doesn’t wanna hear any of these strangers.

Semi-conscious and apparently still in possession of his hearing abilities, Dipper wants nothing more than to drown.

And he does. Sort of.

 

_Still no pulse._

_Let’s go again. All clear._

_CLEAR._

He doesn’t quite know if he’s dying or not.

It doesn’t feel like the reverse of being born; whatever that feels like. His life does not flash before his eyes. Neither heaven nor hell open its gates to welcome him. And his chest _hurts_.

Dying is either severely misinterpreted or unnecessarily overhyped, Dipper concluded.

But if he really is about to die, well-

It will be his second time.

 

_He’s stable._

_Oh my god, is that..?_

_I…think so._

_Now that’s just plain weird._

 

 

When Dipper opened his eyes, everything was on fire.

Bright, hot flames licked around the bed and countless voices all screamed together in a raging inferno. For a wild moment, Dipper stayed frozen to his spot; unable to move a muscle. When he finally managed to lift one of his hands, he moved it to the other. He was about to yank something that seemed to throb and tug at his arm when he realized it was an IV catheter.

Slowly, the fire around him died down; swirling in a pool of white and light blue. A couple of heartbeats later, and Dipper found himself in the middle of a hospital room.

As if by some cosmic force, the door opened and a nurse walked in. She was wearing light green scrubs and her dark brown hair was kept in a ponytail. When she turned to smile at him, he could’ve sworn he saw her wearing braces.

But he blinked twice, and the madness faded.

“Hello, Mr. Pines. How are you feeling?”

She spoke his name with a little hesitation and Dipper raised an eyebrow at her blatant unease.

“You are Mr. Pines, right?” she added quickly. “You had no ID on you when you came, but that’s what’s written on the…well-” She pointed to his abdomen. “..on the mark.”

Confused –and completely forgetting the intricacies of propriety he used to cherish- Dipper lifts his hospital gown and sure enough, a little to his left, just by the hipbone, was a tattoo he has never seen before.

He can only make out his name, and below it was a bunch of numbers he can’t quite figure out.

“What happened to me?!” he snapped at the nurse; the question laced with more force than he intended.

“I- that’s what we were hoping to ask you when you wake up, actually. You were brought here early this morning after- well, I think I’ll just get Dr. Fischer here so he can tell you himself. He did tell us to inform him right away once you wake up.”

She seemed terrified and Dipper would’ve loved to stoke her fear of him if he wasn’t just as clueless as her. Before she closed the door, however, he managed to call out one last time.

“Where is _here_ exactly?”

She visibly relaxed, perhaps relieved that the question was finally something she can actually answer.

Her forced smile returned. “You’re in Gravity Falls General Hospital, Mr. Pines.”

 

 

Thomas Fischer seemed a little too young to be such an important figure within the hospital. And judging by how the nurse scrambled to get him, Dipper could tell he was a big deal.

Looking at him now, Dipper can see that the guy can’t be more than just a handful of years older than him. With his chiseled jawline and perfect, blond hair, he looked not quite a medical doctor and more of a Sev’ral Timez member.

Dipper disliked him almost instantly.

He came in with an easy smile and seemed to have expected all his questions.

Surprisingly, he answered each and every one of them patiently and Dipper started to try and make sense of the information.

That forest rangers found him in the middle of the road near the border around 5 o’clock in the morning.

That other than the clothes on his back, he had nothing else with him.

That he doesn’t have a single scratch on his body, but most of his vital organs kept failing.

And that he flat-lined twice before he became stable.

While Dipper was still racking his brain for the last thing he remembers, the same nurse came in and informed them that a visitor has arrived.

A few minutes after Dr. Fischer left, the door opened again and Dipper did a double take when he saw who came in.

“Melody?”

“Hey, Dipper,” she greeted with a worried smile. After carefully closing the door, she then pulled a chair to sit beside the bed. When she was close enough to take a good look at him, Melody could only shake her head and frown. “Oh honey, what happened to you?”

Dipper tried to sit up but the effort was futile. His arms were still limp and Melody gave him a stern look.

“Don’t force yourself. You know you have to rest.”

“But-”

“Don’t even _try_ , Dipper Pines. I’m not Soos, I won’t budge.”

He sighed and finally relented. She _did_ adjust the bed so his upper body is raised a little bit.  Dipper seemed appeased; briefly sending her a grateful smile.

Despite the circumstance, Dipper appreciated the company. It was a familiar face, and Melody did not fuss over him; a fact he was silently thankful for.

“How are the kids?” he asked, partly because he _did_ wanna know, and also to distract Melody from the growing concern that started to be evident on her face the longer she looked at the state he was in.

“They’re good,” she replied with a proud smile. “Growing a little too fast, if you ask me. They’re actually with my ‘Da for the weekend. It’s been really quiet at home.”

Dipper finds himself smiling fondly; remembering how loud and unruly the Ramirez kids can be.

When he turned to look at Melody again, the unspoken questions were back on her face and he knew the exposition was over.

“Melody…how come you’re here?

She pressed her lips together in a tight smile. “The hospital contacted the Shack, Dipper. I was the one who got the call.” She placed a hand on his arm in a comforting gesture. “I didn’t tell Soos coz I figured- you know, I thought you might not want the Stans to know. And we both know my husband is a blabbermouth.”

Dipper knew that, and once again, he was extremely grateful for the godsend that is Melody.

“Dipper, honey…how are you here?” The question was not accusatory. Just plain, parental concern, and for a few seconds, Dipper just wanted to bask in it. “When we last saw you in Portland last year, you said…you said you still couldn’t come back.”

It was Christmas. Soos wanted him to join them and Melody’s parents for the holidays, but Dipper refused. He was only there to drop off his presents for the kids and do a little errand. He never stays in Oregon for too long.

“Look, I understand if you don’t wanna share. It’s alright.” She gave his arm a little squeeze. “We just worry, you know. You’re family.”

The words stung and Dipper felt guilty. Melody noticed his reaction, and she tried to smile encouragingly.

“If you’re planning on staying, though, I’ll talk to Soos and we’ll figure something out,” she continued. “I know it’s been ages, but I’m sure you miss the Shack.”

This time, they shared a small, wistful smile. As if remembering something, Melody quickly grabbed her bag and started digging inside.

“Now, I know this was a _little_ improvised, since Soos brought with him the actual presents when he left to visit the Stans this morning, but I was hoping it’ll cheer you up.”

She handed him a _Mystery Shack_ paper bag and inside, Dipper saw a familiar, blue and white trucker hat.

“Happy Birthday, Dipper.”

ooooOoooo


	2. A Call To Arms

 

It was half an hour past daybreak when Mabel finally got home.

 

Sitting on the front steps of the mansion, she was just about to take her boots off when the huge, mahogany double door opened.

“Why I put up with you, I’ll never know.”

Crossing the threshold was Pacifica; wearing a white, Victorian nightgown and a scowl on her face.

“It’s September, Mabel,” she spat, crossing her arms and stopping a few feet from the woman with neon pink socks.

Mabel acknowledged her presence with a non-committal sound and continued unlacing her other shoe. When Pacifica realized her housemate wasn’t too keen on talking, she turned her attention to the bags beside the brunette and kicked them vindictively.

“Hey!”

“Mabel-” She eyed the bags suspiciously. “You left with nothing but a burlap sack drawstring bag that could barely hold your boots. Where did you get these?”

Mabel just shrugged. “I made new friends.”

“Right…”

“Look,” the brunette started, throwing the last boot on the ground and narrowing her eyes at her friend. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me what’s eating you up so you can stop being a grumpy cat and we can all exist in peace and sunshine?”

“I am _not_ sitting on the steps like some uncivilized barbarian.”

“Yes, you are.”

With a grunt that did not escape Pacifica’s ears, she grabbed the blonde and successfully managed to get her butt down beside her.

“What? I thought you’re so high and mighty now, that you can’t even spend an hour of your birthday with us commoners.”

Mabel shrugged again; though this time with a big smile on her face. “I hold open courts on weekends.”

“You are such a dork.” Pacifica moved to hit her right shoulder, like she always does, when she noticed Mabel move an inch and wince before she even made contact.

“ _God_ , what is it this time?”

Mabel felt herself shrinking under her glare.

“Broken ribs,” she admitted silently. “And- and there’s a hole in my back, but I was able to patch it up. Look- Pacifica, wait! I can- SIF, WAIT!”

 

 

 _The Polaris_ is a quaint, little mansion at the edge of Malibu. The cliff-side location is perfect, the view is spectacular, and the sunsets are breathtaking.

Mabel bought it five years ago. No one needed to ask her why.

She even got it for almost nothing. It was a fixer-upper and rumor around the city was that a young, Hollywood starlet died inside, a few years back. Mabel couldn’t care less. She even did the renovations herself. Now, it has six bedrooms, two kitchens, a pool, and an unstable, magical portal sealed with a red barn door.

The West Coast has always been Mabel and Pacifica’s home, but in Malibu, they tend to keep to themselves. Which is why even when she’s upset, Mabel knew Pacifica is still somewhere inside the house. So after healing herself and changing into comfy clothes, she found the blonde in one of the kitchens; in an _& NDRA_ shirt and number-crunching. She sat across from her on the opposite end of the table.

“We’re still rich, right?”

Pacifica looks at her over her glasses and Mabel shoots her a winning smile. The amused look on her friend’s face turned to worry when she sees the bandages peeking out of her tank top.

“It’s all good. I’m good,” Mabel says, waving the questions before they come.

“What? I don’t even get to complain?”

“I know what you’re gonna say, anyway.” Mabel tried to smirk. “And complaining gives you heart wrinkles.”

“I only do it because you never listen.”

Their arguments are never loud and Pacifica refuses to nag but sometimes, Mabel wishes the blonde would just scream, and vent out, and get over it. Maybe then, her words will not make as much sense as they always do.

“I never stop you from leaving, Mabel. And I sure as hell didn’t complain when you made a _wormhole_ in the middle of our house.” She pointed at the big, crimson fixture in the living room. “But when do I intervene? When you come home half-dead? Because need I remind you, that already happened twice!”

She knows Pacifica’s right. And although this conversation is just another version of the same one they’ve been having for years, Mabel can tell that the other girl is almost at the edge of her frustration.

But it’s too early in the morning to think of difficult things and yesterday was a long, long day. When she noticed Pacifica calming down after her uncharacteristic outburst, she tried to look reassuring.

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing a few days of rest can’t fix.”

The blonde doesn’t look convinced, but Mabel soldiers on. “So, how’s Singapore?”

It’s their routine. Pacifica usually patterns her business trips to match Mabel’s escapades. They both pretend it’s to make sure the brunette doesn’t have to sit down with old, greedy capitalists or accidentally give away all her money to phony charities, but Mabel knows better. 

The paralyzing fear and onslaught of suppressed memories that took over when Pacifica almost died in Peru is something Mabel doesn’t wanna experience ever again.

“Quite successful, actually,” Pacifica announced with a haughty smile. Mabel raised an eyebrow and giggled when the blonde immediately sighed and sneered. “Some of them are still misogynistic traditionalists, don’t get me wrong. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Mabel laughed and shook her head in amusement. “No doubt. I’m sure old Preston must be so proud.”

The joke prompted the blonde to throw a pen in her direction, but Mabel deftly caught it by the tip.

Pacifica just huffed in annoyance. “I miss the days when you had noodle arms.”

“I never had noodle arms, sister.” She winked at her friend. “You got the wrong twin.”

They both froze at the statement.

The topic wasn’t exactly taboo, but it was never brought up as casually either.

Fortunately, before one of them could speak, the silence was interrupted by a knock that came from the other side of the red door.

Faster than Mabel has ever seen her move, Pacifica leaps out of her chair to get to the door. Through the glass windows that separate the kitchen from the living room, Mabel sees the bright, silver light of the portal before a tall man emerges from the other side.

“Oh, it’s you.” The blonde struggled to catch her breath. “Good morning, Mr. W.”

“Hello, Ms. Northwest.”

After closing the enchanted entrance, they both made their way to the kitchen, where the brunette spent the last couple of seconds between reeling from the shock of her slip up and processing the arrival of their visitor.

“Hello, Mabel.”

As usual, the man was wearing his signature three-piece suit and purple tie.  Standing in the middle of the colorful kitchen like a misplaced ornament, Mabel can’t help but roll her eyes at him.

“What are you doing here, D?” she asked, trying to hide a smile.

Mr. W, on the other hand, seemed genuinely confused. “Well, I heard a commotion. I thought I might be able to assist.”

The statement seemed innocent enough, but she’s known him for years. “You’re not supposed to hear anything through the bridge.”

He blanched. “Well, I…”

“You…?”

“Well, if you must know,” He tugged at his jacket in an attempt to look dignified. “I felt you come home and promptly sensed your distress, so I decided to –as you eloquently put it- _tune in_.”

Mabel turned to look at Pacifica for help, but she was no longer in the kitchen. Apparently, she relocated her things and herself to the living room. Traitor.

“You sound an awful lot like a robot, D. Are you gonna give me an update on my vitals now or something?”

She started moving towards one of the cabinets to grab some cereal. If she has to deal with him, she’ll need breakfast.

“I assure you, I am not. Although I _can_ do that, if you want me to.”

“Ugh!” She placed the box on the counter and turned to glare at him. “That’s a violation of our agreement, you know!”

“The one on the scented paper?”

“Just because you’re an immortal and powerful schmuck, doesn’t mean you get to invade my privacy! We talked about this.”

Surprisingly, she seemed to have gotten through to him, because his face fell and he looked a little guilty.

“I apologize,” he replied, looking too much like a kicked puppy that Mabel didn’t have the heart to continue scowling.

“Okay, okay! No Sad Keanus allowed in this house!”

While she moved around the kitchen to look for her favorite bowl, Mr. W sat and observed silently.

“Ask away, D. You know you want to.”

Even without looking, Mabel can feel the eye-roll that to any other spectator would look rather awkward on such a prim and proper individual.

“How was your trip?”

She smirked at him. “You won’t believe me, but I-”

“Mabel!” The shout came from Pacifica, who took the stairs two steps at a time. “Where’s your phone?”

“I- well, I lost it during the trip. Why?”

The blonde waived her own phone, looking a little frantic. “I got a text from Candy. She says she’s been trying to contact you for days.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Pacifica’s eyes remained glued to the screen, looking paler by the second.

“Pacifica! What is it?”

“Something happened. We need to go home.”

 

* * *

 

The next time Dipper woke up, everything was dark and his back was aching.

After hauling himself up to a sitting position, he realized he passed out on the couch where Stan’s recliner used to be. With the faint light coming from the kitchen, Dipper caught a glimpse of a note attached to the television screen. It was from Melody; informing him that she went out to pick up groceries and fresh clothes.

For the umpteenth time that day, warmth and gratitude threatened to overwhelm the young man and he swallowed hard.

When he reached the switch, Dipper immediately regretted flipping the lights on as the bright glare of the bulb momentarily blinded him. Squinting at his surroundings, he slowly noticed all the other details he missed when Melody was assisting him from the car to the living room hours ago.

The old TV was gone; replaced by a larger, thinner model. The aquarium was moved to the opposite side of the room and all the other hazards Dipper remembered to be permanent features of the house were now swapped for random toys and other safe, child-proof things. If it weren’t for the familiar shape and structure of the place, Dipper could’ve sworn he was somewhere else.

Either way, the unsettling, alien feeling of seeing the altered living room and the cognitive dissonance that came with it forced Dipper in a trance that had him aimlessly walking around the shack. The next thing he knows, he’s face to face with the door of the attic room.

“Shit,” he muttered when he realized where his feet had taken him.

It’s been nine years since the last time he closed this door. Nine years, and he still couldn’t keep his promises.

With a trembling hand, Dipper moved to open the door.

Now, Dipper isn’t particularly poetic or with matchless turn of phrase. However, as cliché as it may sound, _blast from the past_ is the only apt term for the literal punch in the gut he was greeted with when their old room was revealed to him.

Needless to say, it was exactly how he left it almost a decade and a lifetime ago.

The entire left side was precisely how he remembered it to be. All the pictures and clippings, and the strings that connected one thing to another remained untouched. It mirrored the frantic desperation his thirteen-year old self felt when Weirdmageddon ended and his own hell began. The mess reflected the madness that took over him back then; the same madness that still enslaves him today.

The other side of the room – _her side_ – also remained frozen in time.

He once snapped at Soos when the guy suggested they go through her things for something that might help. He never had the courage to touch any of her stuff. Back then, he used to justify it with simply avoiding Mabel’s wrath if she finds out they messed with her belongings. As more time passed by and options ran out, he realized it was his own fear of changing the one thing that stayed the same since he last saw her that kept him from moving anything.

Apparently, Soos and Melody felt the same.

However, though his memory has always been impressive and the visual details were entirely expected, Dipper was not prepared for the sensory overload that blindsided him.

The silence, the smell, and the unmistakable feeling of _home_ that the attic has always given him were things he never accounted for.

Nine years, and being back in his home was only ripping his lungs apart.

In an attempt to get his breathing back to normal, Dipper bounded down the stairs and all but flung himself to the parking lot. The impact of his arms hitting the stones was not enough to draw blood, but he knew a bruise or two were sure to show up in the morning.

Right now, kneeling on the ground under the glowing, full moon, Dipper looked like a wolf about to howl at something deep within the forest.

Aware of his pitiful state, he pulled himself up and trudged through the clearing; into the woods.

Still in a daze, Dipper only saw a blur of trunks and leaves as his body ran in autopilot and guided him towards a cliff side. He stopped when he saw the familiar pile of rocks that used to haunt his nightmares.

It had been nine months since Mabel disappeared. Nine months of fruitless search when Grunkle Ford took off on his own and returned fourteen hours later. When he came back, he told Dipper it was time to tell his parents the truth and to stop the charade they got going to make them believe Mabel stayed in Gravity Falls with him. That, along with Soos and Wendy setting up a pile of rocks as a makeshift memorial broke something inside Dipper.

Six weeks later, he left Gravity Falls for good.

“You’re not here,” he whispered to the mound.

After what seemed like ages, he finally sat down in front of it; legs propped up and arms on his knees.

“You’re not here, so I shouldn’t talk to you.”

The rage he felt when he learned of the existence of the marker was unlike anything his young self has ever known. The _audacity_ of the very people Mabel called friends and family to give up so easily had awoken a beast inside Dipper. He decided then that they did not deserve his sister.

“But you’re not really anywhere, are you, Mabel?”

Ten years, and he’s beginning to realize that maybe he doesn’t, either.

“I think it’s my fault, you know.” His palms were now red and tender from all the wringing he’s been doing and his arms are starting to show purple splotches but Dipper just feels numb. “The last couple of years. The reason I _still_ can’t find you. I think it’s me.”

Under no one’s judgment but the moon’s, Dipper allowed the tears to fall.

“I’ve done things, Mabel.” He bowed his head in shame. “Things I’m not proud of. I mean- I had to _find you_. I couldn’t care less what I had to do.”

His voice was hoarse. Every statement he spoke was barely a whisper, but he may as well have been shouting them by the way his throat seemed to close up.

“But lately- the things I’ve done lately, Mabel…I think deep down, I’m too scared of having to face you.”  He heard a sharp intake of breath and it took a few seconds to realize it was his own doing.

“You disappeared because of Bill. But because of my fears, I can’t help but think that now, every day you spend gone is all because I’m too damn scared to see you look at me the way I look at myself in the mirror.”

For the first time in years, Dipper Pines allows himself to grieve.

Deep sobs wracked through his slouched form. The reality of finally being back to where it all began dawned on him and the impact of this realization manifested itself in his anguished howls.

For a long moment, Dipper stayed there; blanketed by moonlight in front of his missing twin sister’s grave.

But despite his blinding agony, Dipper knows that a wounded animal is at its most vulnerable. Ten years of following monsters that lurk in the dark like bread crumbs that may lead him to his sister have taught him that. So when a twig snapped and soft footsteps towards him echoed across the trees, Dipper tensed and bolted upright.

The anger at being hunted while mourning for his sister flared across his spine and he instinctively bent to reach for a knife he did not know was hidden in his boot.

A single shadow moved through the forest. When it finally got out of the trees and into the clearing, Dipper could only blink in surprise.

“You’re up. Good. I need your help.”

Without his lab coat, he looked dangerous enough to fit right in with all the terrors in the forest.

“Dr. Fischer?”

ooooOoooo


End file.
